I lived off-base in Okinawa with my first husband from 1967-1968. One night living in a secluded area without a phone or car a young soldier on leave from Vietnam decided to harass me. I was not frightened but it really began to annoy me after some time. This poem is a description of the experience.
A Knock At The Door
Pitch black no one around
silence upon the grounds
after ten, all had gone
a knock at the door.
Across from
McToureous Marine Base
in a compound with no phones,
no car, no English.
It was late that night
For a knock at the door
I went to answer but
there was no one there.
Puzzlement nudged me,
I know that I had heard
the hand of someone knocking.
Then again came the knock.
I opened wide and looked
from side to side
just empty space
no fear just curiosity.
Again came your knock.
I went round the house
beyond the light you stood
why knock and hide I said?
Then understanding came,
I went back inside and locked up tight.
You tossed light pebbles
at the glass that night.
Two hours you tossed.
“Remove your clothes,” you said.
“dance for me.” I am
on leave from Vietnam.
I have not seen a
woman for so long.
“Please dance for me. I want to see.”
I shoved a knife through the window.
“You pervert you,” I said.
Fear crawled up my side.
On the floor my baby cried.
When will someone come?
You kept this up for hours, nothing but
Monsoon shutters between us.
I heard a car, it was
the Sarg next door home early.
My being then relaxed
He called my husband at Torii Station.
You were to flee my midnight friend
I wonder today are you OK?
Did you recover from your delirium?
Did you recover from your wounds?
Did you leave Vietnam? Or did you return
To come home in a wooden box?
© Liz Rice-Sosne
Placed at Poets United Poetry Pantry
noh where 